


Cherry

by bobbysghost



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky's sad, F/M, Harry Styles - Freeform, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:15:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23793712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobbysghost/pseuds/bobbysghost
Summary: You and Bucky have broken up. He's not taking it well.Songfic based off Cherry - Harry Styles
Relationships: Clint Barton/Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	Cherry

**_Don’t you call him ‘baby’_ **

**_We’re not talking lately_ **

**_Don’t you call him what you used to call me_ **

Bucky Barnes didn’t usually connect with people. Before his fall, Bucky was charismatic. He always had people hanging onto his last word and could spin a story as good as the next guy. But after the fall, Hydra tortured every last emotion out of him - now, Bucky could barely look anyone in the eye. It wasn’t until after Steve had found him, broken and alone, that he could heal. It took a while, but Bucky soon began to slot into the everchanging world of the Avengers.

Then you joined the team.

You were quiet at first, which intrigued him. Your silence was comforting in the loudness of the Avengers Tower. Bucky found himself wanting to learn everything about you. He thought your phasing abilities were impressive, even if he didn't understand them. Your file was interesting; an admirable S.H.I.E.L.D. soldier, one rank below Natasha and Clint. Your D.N.A. was different, which enabled you to engage in 'quantum tunnelling'. Tony explained it, but Bucky was clueless. The future was confusing.

Soon enough, you became more comfortable within the team. Bucky was pleasantly surprised when you took a special interest in him, and you two were soon inseparable. Bucky’s heart decidedly grew two sizes; big enough to accommodate the feelings that flourished for you. Your relationship turned intense – Bucky couldn’t keep his hands off you. He was ever the overprotective boyfriend. He needed to be, he hadn’t had something to call his own since before he changed. He even hated it when you did your _job. I_ f you went on a mission, especially an undercover one, he’d strop for days. When you returned he rarely let you out of his sight for hours, even days, afterwards

Some would say that your relationship was toxic, that Bucky was controlling, but he didn’t see it that way. All he wanted to do was protect you. He often overheard Natasha whispering to you, telling you to break it off, that it wasn’t healthy. Bucky always went tough on her when they sparred. Besides, he wasn’t worried, you two were fine. You were perfect. You were _in love_.

That was before you broke it off,

and you started dating Clint.

**_I confess_ **

**_I can tell that you are at your best_ **

**_I’m selfish so I’m hating it_ **

The change was almost immediate. You seemed to mirror the person you were with, and that was perfect for Bucky when you two were together. Bucky loved having you by his side; every waking moment you were there, and it gave him someone to protect again. Throughout your relationship, you grew more and more like him. You became withdrawn from the rest of the team, quieter than you even were at the beginning. Bucky’s favourite moments with you were at Tony’s extravagant parties. You were in a tight dress, one he’d chosen, and you were absolutely pissed. He’d laugh as you’d stumble, happy enough to take care of you. Those nights always ended up the same way. Bucky held you at night as you cried into his arms, though he was never sure why your eyes filled with tears. He liked taking care of you, so he never asked.

But with the Archer you were different, and Bucky _loathed_ it. Your laugh, for example – an exquisite, bubbling echo that bounced all around the Tower. Bucky had never been able to rouse more than a giggle from you, let alone a full-on belly-laugh. The noise made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, made his teeth clench and his fists ball. He didn’t know how such a melodic sound could anger him so much, but it did.

He couldn’t escape you. Before, you were either by his side or in your room, but now you seemed to be everywhere. At breakfast, you were there, sharing pancakes with _him_ ; in the gym, you were there, training with _him_. Your flippant happiness was even obvious in your clothes. Bucky had only ever seen you in black, but now your favourite colours seemed to be _pastels_. You were at your best, and he hated it.

Your cheery nature proved only to sour his mood even more. He was always a little temperamental, but now he was downright miserable. Bucky's routine was wake up, train, mission, repeat. He rarely saw the other Avengers, albeit to train with them, and when he did, he refrained from any small talk. He even snapped at Tony when he was fixing a glitch in his arm. The engineer scowled, whacking him with the screwdriver.

"Hey, don't take it out on me 'cause you guys broke up. We all know who's fault it was."

Bucky stayed quiet the rest of the appointment.

Steve, the observant bastard he was, had caught him glowering in your direction more than once. “Buck,” he’d say, in that annoying, righteous tone of his, “she’s happy. Leave her be.” Those words circled around Bucky’s head like birds, day and night. You were happier without him, and it sucked, because he was the reason you weren’t before.

**_I notice that_ **

**_There’s a piece of you in how I dress_ **

**_Take it as a compliment_ **

Breaking a habit was hard, especially one that had formed over fifty years ago. Bucky Barnes was, first, a thief. Albeit, he didn’t steal things as big as he once did, but the thrill of kleptomania was still there. His room paralleled a magpie’s nest, his shiny trophies his pride and joy. He'd managed to scavenge Tony’s favourite screwdriver, Bruce’s old pair of glasses and even one of Natasha’s training knives.

His most prized possessions, however, he wore. Bucky never had the opportunity to dawn jewellery when the was at his prime, but now he loved it. Especially your pieces. Your finery was all silver, engraved with simple designs. In his right ear dangled a small hoop, one you used to wear at the top of your ear before it got ripped out on a mission. That led to a punched wall and bleeding knuckles for Bucky. Around his neck was a simple chain that had once held your favourite charm - a horseshoe. It vanished during training, and strange enough, now lived on Bucky's bookshelf. But Bucky’s favourite was on his little finger; a thin band of metal, indented with the word ‘LIVE’. He remembered you telling him the story behind it. Your teenage years were filled with sadness, so you bought the ring to remind you that life wasn't all bad. It brought a bubble of nostalgia to his throat, and that is why he stole it.

During your relationship, you always complained about your missing things. You couldn’t fathom how you could’ve lost them – your jewellery was either in your jewel box, or on you. But throughout the messy breakup, that was the least of your worries. Bucky didn’t know if you knew he had them, so he wore them with the hope that you’d see, and maybe talk to him again.

He heard you muttering about them to Clint at breakfast; you pouted, and he felt his heart flutter. The butterflies soon died when Clint promised he’d buy you new ones. Bucky knew you didn’t want new ones, they didn’t have the same meaning to you. But he still didn’t want to give them back.

Bucky left the kitchen to head to the gym, not wanting to listen to the couple anymore. It was hard to spook him, his super soldier instincts made it almost impossible to do so. Even so, he still almost jumped out of his skin when you walked through the training room wall.

He swallowed, nerves thick in his throat, peering at you from the corner of his eye as he paused his workout. You ignored him as you grabbed your water bottle you'd left from your own session. Your aquamarine sports set was brighter than anything you’d worn before. Bucky scrunched his nose at it, but he still couldn’t deny how beautiful it made you look.

You picked your bottle up, and Bucky swore he saw your eyes dart to the ring on his finger. He looked away, ready to escape the gym and retreat to his room, until he heard your soft voice twinkle.

“That looks good on you, James.”

**_Don’t you call him ‘baby’_ **

**_We’re not talking lately_ **

**_Don’t you call him what you used to call me_ **

Bucky rarely dreamed, but when he did, his mind filled with images of you. Often, they were memories, replayed teasingly over and over again. Tonight was no different.

You were training together, as you did every day. On the odd occasion, Bucky preferred to spar with Steve, but challenging you brought a new kind of fun. It gave him a new mental challenge to train with someone with powers like yours.

Bucky’s eyes raked over you. Your workout gear always excited him, even if it was just black sweatpants and a sports bra. Any amount of exposed skin made Bucky drool. The one bad thing about training with you was that he was always distracted, and that made him vulnerable.

“James,” you growled, annoyed when he failed to block a simple punch, “pay attention.”

His stomach wriggled with happiness – butterflies? – when you said his name, as it did every time. He shot you a crooked smile and shrugged.

“Sorry, Doll,” he placed his feet back into position, and gestured for you to make the first move. Within seconds, you had phased through him, knocking back his feet and tripping him. Bucky groaned as he hit the floor, his head smacking harshly on the mat as he fell face forward.

You rolled your eyes, kicking him with your foot. “Barnes, you’re being pathetic.”

He narrowed his brows at your words and struck his arm out to grab your ankle. With a sharp tug, you were on your back. Bucky’s hips were tight against yours, and his forearm pressed against your throat. He felt you wriggle experimentally underneath him and smirked. He knew you could phase through him, but he also knew you wouldn’t.

“What was that?” he said slowly. “Want to say that again?”

You shot a sparkling smile his way. “Sorry, baby.”

Bucky paused, his grip loosening for a second. The word swirled around in his mind, and he was almost drunk on it. It tasted addictively sweet, like honey dripping over his tongue. He’d been called a lot of things in his life – ‘Bucky’, ‘soldier’, ‘assassin’ – but ‘baby’ was not one he used to.

He blinked carefully. “Again, please.” He whispered, barely audible. You repeated the world with a sparkle, and he moved his arm from your neck. His hands reached around and cradled your head, pressing his lips into yours.

And then he woke up.

The mornings after such an intense dream were always the worst. It almost like he had a bright, flashing ‘WARNING’ sign above his head. Nobody dared come near him when he was like that - even Steve refrained from starting a conversation. He brooded over his coffee, the black liquid burning his hand through the mug. He was happy in silence until his super soldier hearing perked up. Your tinkling laugh, a sound he’d come to both love and loathe, flowed through the unit. You were almost shrieking with happiness.

“Clint, stop!” you shouted, squealing. Bucky grimaced at his name, especially coming from your mouth.

A deeper chuckle came from the Avenger, “Not until you beg.”

“Please, baby…”

Bucky froze at that. Once again, the word echoed through his ears, but this time it tasted bitter. His hands tensed as you continued to laugh. It was almost like you were laughing at him, teasing him for how pathetic he was.

He didn’t even realise he’d crushed his cup until the hot beverage trickled over his hand. He didn’t even feel it.

**_I just miss_ **

**_I just miss your accent and your friends_ **

**_Did you know I still talk to them?_ **

The thing that Bucky missed the most about your relationship, was, odd enough, your friends. His heart always hurt thinking about you, but he didn’t realise how much his life would change without you in it.

It was odd, how much he relied on you. When you were together, Bucky never noticed it. How much his day revolved around waking up next to you, training with you, going out with you, and sleeping with you. Doing those things by himself did nothing but depress him.

You introduced Bucky to your closest friends a month after you started dating. At first, he’d refused outright to make an appearance at your brunch date. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go, it was that he wouldn’t wish it upon anybody to meet him. The shame at being the Winter Soldier still hung over him, and he couldn’t shake it. After much pleading from you, and a few kisses, Bucky found himself seated around a table in a small café. A bagel sat uneaten in front of him, along with with three strangers.

You introduced each of them with a flourish, excited to show off your shiny new boyfriend. Bucky stayed quiet, analysing each of them thoroughly, as conversation flowed around him.

They were wildly… normal. As nonthreatening as people could get. Bucky found himself relaxing around them and was even (mildly) excited to see them again. Jesse, your brash ex- co-worker, took charge of the conversation effortlessly. Bucky enjoyed listening to her gossip, even though her loud cackle made him grit his teeth. Evan, who you had met at university, was a tad too eccentric for Bucky’s taste. They shot question after question at him, causing Bucky to freeze. You finally shot them a question about their own partner, and Bucky relaxed again. He watched you with a smile, even though he was so deeply out of his comfort zone he felt like he could burst.

But, out of the three of your friends, Bo was by far his favourite. Your oldest companion, almost inseparable since you moved to New York when you were a teen. She was the only one of the three who knew about your powers, and Bucky could tell you trusted her with your life. He enjoyed hearing her stories, and her terrible impression of your British accent. He even gave a couple of, albeit short, answers to her questions, and didn’t flinch when she hugged him goodbye.

He saw them a few more times throughout your whirlwind relationship. A night out a bar, another brunch date, and even his own impromptu birthday party. It felt good, to have friends who weren’t soldiers.

But then you broke up, and all a sudden, Bucky didn’t have friends anymore.

Except for Bo.

She was the only one who’d kept in touch with Bucky, surprisingly. They weren’t as overt with their friendship as they had been, instead choosing to meet in the late evening. It was usually when Bucky was feeling his worst; when the thoughts were too loud. They just sat. Bucky occasionally spoke, and Bo listened. Even though she was your friend, she wasn’t biased, which was refreshing. It was nice.

There was one thing she did say though, after every night, before Bucky left the bench they sat on.

“You need to let her go.”

**_Does he take you walking ‘round his parents’ gallery?_ **

Being a super soldier did have its perks. Good stamina, speedy metabolism, and being immune to illness was great. Bucky's training really came in handy whenever he decided to do something a little creepy.

Like following his ex-girlfriend on dates with her new man.

Bucky knew what he was doing was downright stalker-ish. He could imagine your reaction to it – you’d probably hit him – and what the rest of the team would think. But he couldn’t help it. At times like these, he _needed_ to do it. For his well-being, he’d argue with himself.

Besides, it wasn’t doing anybody any harm, especially if you didn’t see him. And you wouldn’t see him. Even though you and Clint were S.H.I.E.L.D. trained, and were some of the best, Bucky knew how to be invisible. There was no way you would see him.

And that’s how he found himself at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Waves of self-hatred rolled over him as he stared at the couple looking up at the piece in front of them. Bucky knew how much you’d wanted to come here on a date, and his stupid ass never took you, and now he was paying the price. He could practically feel the happiness radiating off you. His stomach burned as Clint put his arm around you, pulled you to him, and kissed your forehead. Bucky couldn’t see your face, but he could picture it. Your scrunched up nose, your closed eyes, and the most adorable smile on your face. He hated it.

He followed you around for the majority of your date, never close enough to be noticeable. He knew how to blend in with a crowd. Bucky watched as you laughed together, spoke about the art, held each other’s hands. He observed as Clint caught you off guard, and made you laugh loudly as he kissed you.

The thing is, Bucky did need to do this. He needed to see how perfect you were together. It was almost like an act of closure. The once agonising gnawing in his chest had quietened to a dull ache, and he finally felt like he could breathe. Although an angry fire still swam through his veins whenever he saw Clint anywhere near you, it was dying. It was shocking even to him, that he was beginning to feel anywhere near normal.

When he sat on a bench outside the gallery, he took a few deep breaths. It felt good, to breathe when there wasn’t anger, guilt, sadness constricting his lungs. Maybe, Bucky thought, it would be okay.

You didn’t see him when you and Clint left the museum to head to get some food. You didn’t see the small, content smile on his face.

**_Don’t you call him ‘baby’_ **

**_We’re not talking lately_ **

**_Don’t you call him what you used to call me_ **

Tonight, Bucky dreamed, as he did every night. Although his anger had faded, his mind was still fresh with memories. This time, the images that flashed through his head were rose tinted, and made him twitch in his sleep.

It wasn’t a fully formed vision, but the foggy fantasies were easy to identify. It was one of the better dreams Bucky had had.

Your hands slid down his chest, whisky tinted pants falling out of your mouth as Bucky pushed into you. Moans soon filled his ears, and he gripped the headboard tightly, your leg in his other hand. You were in heaven – you knew it would be amazing, but you didn’t know how perfect it would be.

Bucky tilted his head down, resting his forehead on yours as his hips moved slowly. This wasn’t his style; he was normally faster, rougher, his pace unforgiving. But this was your first time with him, and he wanted to make it special. Even though everything fuelled him to go faster, he forced himself to rock back and forth into you. The movements drew the most delicious sounds from you, and Bucky groaned in response.

He looked down at you, and grinned. Even with your makeup streaky and face sweaty, Bucky thought you were heavenly. He peppered your neck with kisses, his release building inside him.

You finished with a stuttered moan, your hands tight in Bucky’s hair. He wasn’t too far behind you, his own grunts rumbling out against your neck. He breathed heavily, before he pulled back to look down at you. You grinned up at him, that special smile reserved only for him, and leaned up for a kiss.

When you pulled away, your tired voice was little more than a whisper. “I love…”

Bucky jerked awake, cursing himself for his shitty timing. He frowned, rubbing the bridge of his nose; he always got a headache after such intense dreams. This one was no different.

Apart from, it was.

There was something off about the room, Bucky could feel it. The hairs stood up on the back of his neck, and his muscles tightened. His hand instinctively went underneath his pillow, gripping the hidden gun. Sitting up in his bed, he peered apprehensively around his room. His eyes stopped at his door – shut, but he could feel a presence looming.

Bucky trained the gun at it, but something stopped him from firing. Instead, he called out, “I know you’re there.” Of course, he didn’t expect it to work, but a twinge in his stomach told him it was a good idea.

He wasn’t sure who he thought was on the other side of the door, but it definitely wasn’t you.

He almost shot you when you phased through his wall, but managed to stop himself. Bucky’s heart was hammering out of his chest; he felt like he could barely breathe. Was this another dream? He looked at you closely – in his dreams, you were happy, but this time, tears ran thickly down your cheeks.

Bucky frowned, dropping the gun. Concern wrapped itself around him, and he didn’t question why you were in his room. Gone was the silent treatment, the jealousy, the months of seething anger. All he wanted to do was make sure you were okay.

You choked a little on your tears, looking at Bucky like a deer in headlights. You wiped your eyes with the back of your sleeve. Your voice was croaky, thick with sadness, when you spoke.

“James,” your voice was croaky, thick with unshed tears, and Bucky’s heart leapt at the sound of his name on your lips. You whimpered shakily.

“I need you.”

**_Don’t you call him ‘baby’_ **

**_We’re not talking lately_ **

**_Don’t you call him what you used to call me_ **


End file.
